


Out of the Fire

by kiranightshade



Category: Hannibal (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Season/Series 02, Cannibalism, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scott is a Bad Friend, Serial Killers, Trans Male Character, Trans Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 16:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13239417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/pseuds/kiranightshade
Summary: Stiles has never seen Hannibal surprised before, and he barely sees it now. There's rage though, in the hint of a snarl on his lip and the tense lInes of his shoulders. It scares him.Stiles has never been scared of Hannibal before.OrSherrif dies on a call and Peter helps him  through his grief. Eventually though, the real world comes calling and a godfather Stiles didn't know he had takes custody.





	Out of the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is a soooo late and I'm super sorry. I thought I posted it but I didn't and I feel really bad about the whole thing. 
> 
> Also i cant find my giftee's ao3???? I'm going to add it later and link them on Tumblr.

The call is anonymous about a domestic dispute downtown. John wouldn’t have gone himself if they haven’t found themselves so short staffed so suddenly, but they have and he does. 

He barely has the time to worry for his son before he dies. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles’ ears ring at the funeral, and every step is like wading through molasses. The cemetery hosts at least half the town, but Stiles stands alone. He does not give a speech, nor does he meet anyone’s eyes. 

Afterwards, he is led to an expensive, unfamiliar car. Peter steps into view and leads him into the passenger seat. Stiles lets him.

Stiles lets him take him to the building his father died in and he lets him take him to a penthouse that looks barely lived in. He’s given a room that has a few boxes in it. Everything else is in storage. 

Peter talks while he unpacks his life and neatly tucks it away in drawers and on hangers. He tells him about how CPS doesn’t need to know where he is if he doesn’t want them to and that he knows how to file for emancipation. He tells him that he’s welcome here for as long as he likes and he tells him that he’ll take care of everything. 

“Just mourn, okay. Don’t worry about anything else.”

Stiles nods, and that assures Peter enough to leave him alone with his thoughts. 

Weeks pass by in a haze. Stiles’ phone dies and he doesn’t charge it. At some point, it becomes commonplace for the two of them to curl up together on the couch, Peter reading while Stiles dozes on his chest. Eventually, he becomes aware enough to realize that he’s living with Peter Hale, who is dead, and that he’s done nothing to hide his return to alphahood. 

“Derek is fine,” Peter says when Stiles flinches from his touch. “There is more than one way to become alpha.”

Stiles doesn’t flinch again. 

Peter has an extensive library, a portion of which is in his room. Stiles finds the book that holds the ritual Peter used to come back, and Peter finds him hours later hunched over it. He gently takes it from his hands, and wipes the tears from his face. That ritual has certain prerequisites, all of which are too late to prepare. Stiles locks himself in his room for the rest of the day. The next morning, he looks better than he has since he moved in. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles kisses Peter one morning on a whim. It’s nothing special, except for the way that Peter kisses him back. They don’t talk about it or go any further, but they have a silent understanding now. Peter doesn’t hide the affection in his eyes anymore.

 

*** 

 

Stiles turns on his phone, and there are multiple missed calls from three numbers. Melissa, his social worker, and a man Stiles hasn’t heard from in seven years. 

Peter joins him on the couch as he waits for Hannibal to pick up. They don’t have to wait long.

“Mieczyslawa, you’ve been missing for two months.”

“Yeah…I’m, I’m sorry. I’m fine. It’s just—”

“There’s no need to explain. Just tell me where you are and I can pick you up.”

“I’m not going to some home.”

“Of course not. As your godfather, I’ve been given full custody. You’ll be living with me.”

“Godfather?” Stiles sputters.

“Did no one tell you?”

“No!” 

“Please don’t raise your voice. You know how I feel about that.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Now, your location?”

 

*** 

 

Stiles moves to Baltimore and nobody notices, save for Melissa who scolds him and Peter who follows him.

“There’s no place for someone like me in Beacon Hills, not anymore. And besides, I only stuck around for you.” Peter says before they enter their separate cars and begin the long drive home.

Stiles’ new room is nice with a mahogany desk and an adjoined bathroom. Unpacking is quick. The dresser is empty for his clothes, but he freezes at the sight of the numerous dresses and shoes in his closet. 

“I hope I got the right size,” Hannibal says from his doorway, “But we can always have them fitted.”

“Um…”

“Is there something wrong?”

“It’s alright. I never told you, but, uh, I actually prefer suits.”

“In that case, I can call my tailor. We’ll get something for you Monday.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says awkwardly. Hannibal smiles though, and that’s enough to get him to follow and tell him that he hasn’t been his goddaughter in a long time.

 

*** 

 

Hannibal invites Peter to stay until he finds a place of his own, but Stiles can tell he’s only doing it out of courtesy. Peter can tell too, and politely refuses. However, he does accompany them for dinner.

Hannibal has always been particular about his food. Every meal is a performance; his mother used to tease him endlessly about it. Stiles enjoys it, enjoys not eating alone in his room every night, and for that he can allow a little pretention. 

Peter’s eyes dilate upon the first bite, and then flash. Stiles chokes. Hannibal’s eyes narrow in that way that means he’s fixated on some new curiosity.

“Dude, what the hell?”

It’s a testament to the moment that Hannibal doesn’t reprimand him for his language.

“I had wondered why you were lying about the source of your meat.” Peter takes another bite, closing his eyes in pleasure as he savors it. “Stiles, you never told me you had relatives that are more than human.”

“What are you talking about? What are we eating?”

“Pig,” Hannibal says without taking his eyes off Peter. 

“Not a lie,” Peter says, amusement evident in the curve of his lip.

In the next moment, there’s a steak knife lodged in Peter’s throat, and arterial spray all over Stiles and the dining table. Stiles stands so abruptly the chair tips back. Peter pulls out the knife, and then he’s pinning Hannibal to the floor. 

Stiles has never seen Hannibal surprised before, and he barely sees it now. There’s rage though, in the hint of a snarl on his lip and the tense lines of his shoulders. It scares him. 

Stiles has never been scared of Hannibal before. 

Peter’s skin nits back together swiftly, and his grin is wicked. “Not so alike then. Not in terms of species, at least. No, you’re very human. Though not like one I’ve ever met before.”

“Peter?” Stiles calls out, cautiously stepping closer to them. “Peter, what’s going on?”

“I’ve never had human cooked before today. Haven’t had it since I was a child, actually. Talia didn’t approve, you see. She got into many fights with mother about it. She didn’t see that humans are little more than arrogant…pigs.”

“Not all of them,” Hannibal gasps. There is dignity still though. Stiles is impressed despite himself.

“No,” Peter corrects, “Certainly not. But I’m curious, what separates the swine from the rest?”

“What are you? If not human.”

Peter tilts his head as if to say, fair enough. “I’m a werewolf. Stiles is not, unless he chooses of course.” 

“…One should always strive to eat the rude.”

Stiles snorts, “How the hell have I lived this long then?”

“I’ve taken exception.”

“Clearly.” Peter says, laughter bleeding into his tone. 

“Let him go.”

“Are you—”

“He won’t hurt me, and he understands that you are an extension of me.” Stiles says with no room for negotiation. 

“My actions may have been a bit rash.” And that’s the closest to apologizing Hannibal is going to get. Peter rises to his feet, picking at the drying blood on his button-up. 

“I think a shower is overdue. That is, if you’re comfortable being alone with him?”

“Why? Because he kills and eats people? Don’t think I missed that you do it too. Besides, what would I do without my guys?” Stiles kisses Peter’s cheek and nudges him towards the stairs. “Don’t mistake me for Scott.” Stiles glances at the mess. “Or a maid. I am not cleaning this up.”

Hannibal chuckles as Peter leaves, “You can watch then. It will be a learning experience.”


End file.
